


somewhere only we know

by blazeofglory



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Endgame Pimms, Fluff, Getting Back Together, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-03-09 22:05:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13490742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blazeofglory/pseuds/blazeofglory
Summary: Unrelated Pimms prompt fills and short fics!





	1. soft husbands being soft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was for endgame Pimms!

Jack doesn’t know what time it is when he opens his eyes, but the room is still dark, lit only by the moonlight filtering in through the window. The room is quiet; it takes him a second to realize what woke him. 

“Sorry,” Kent says softly, stilling his hand in Jack’s hair. Jack rolls over to face him, lips curling up into an easy, thoughtless smile at the soft look on Kent’s face and his bright eyes, shining almost silver in the darkness. He’s so beautiful, so ethereal in this moment, Jack doesn’t quite know what to say.

Jack leans in for a kiss, long and slow, and presses his forehead to Kent’s when they part. He can’t bear to move any farther away.

“I thought this might not feel real,” Kent whispers, sounding awed. “But it actually _does_. We really did it.” 

“We really _did_ get married,” Jack affirms as he reaches for Kent’s left hand. He carefully traces the gold band on Kent’s finger, and he can’t help but smile again. “It’s been less than 24 hours, but how do you like it so far?”

Kent laughs, loud and unabashed, and _fuck_ , Jack loves him. He’s never loved him more than he does in this moment; he didn’t think it was possible to love Kent any more, and _yet_.

“I _love_ it,” Kent declares emphatically. “I ate my weight in cake, I got you to dance with me, _and_ we fucked in this giant bed, so, yeah, pretty good deal.”

Kent rolls onto his back and Jack follows, draping himself over his husband. He glances out the window again, at the moon that looks so impossibly large, but it pales in comparison to looking at Kent.

“Hey, Kenny?”

Kent makes a soft noise. “Yeah, babe?”

“Don’t call me babe,” Jack admonishes, propping himself up to look at Kent properly. Kent frowns at him for a second before understanding dawns on his face and he grins again, crooked and beautiful and all Jack’s.

“Sorry, sorry,” Kent says, grin never dimming for a second. “What I meant was—yeah, Mr. Parson?”

Jack grins back. “I fucking love you, Mr. Parson.”

They only stop smiling so they can kiss again.


	2. some more endgame fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This prompt was for the engagement fic!

Kent is staring up at Jack, and all Jack can do is stare back. The room is dead silent; Jack can practically hear his own heart beating, fast and hard, overcome with anxiety.

After a long moment, Kent looks away. The snap of the ring box closing, breaking their careful silence, makes Jack jump.

“Kent,” Jack says softly, _pleading_ , but what is he even pleading for? “I—I’m not saying no.” 

Kent finally stands up, shrugging, as if he could ever feign nonchalance to _Jack_ ; as if Jack can’t read every microexpression on Kent’s face right now. He hasn’t seen a smile that brittle in a long time, and he hates that he’s the one who put it there.

“It’s okay,” Kent says, and Jack wishes Kent would sit on the bed next to him, but he can’t bring himself to ask. The forced smile on Kent’s face gets wider, even as his eyes grow glassy with unshed tears. “Really, it was, uh, a longshot, and it’s totally fine, as long as—I mean. As long as you’re not breaking up with me because of this.”

God, Jack’s heart breaks just a little. Will he ever stop hurting Kent like this?

“I’m not breaking up with you,” Jack says, as firm as he can, even as his pulse continues to race and his hands are shaking now. “It’s just, do you really think we’re ready? We live on opposite sides of the country and—and you’re not even out, and marriage is… it’s huge, Kenny.” 

The smile drops off of Kent’s face, and Jack is relieved until it’s replaced with a deep frown. 

“I know it’s huge.” Kent crosses his arms, an obvious tell, and doesn’t look at Jack. “I’m ready, and you—you love me. Isn’t that enough?”

 _Oh_.

Jack stands, wrapping his arms around Kent, who immediately melts into the embrace, all easy and gentle, which are still such new words for Jack to associate with their relationship. They breathe together, silent again, for a long minute. Jack holds Kent tight and Kent holds him back, and Jack never wants to let go.

“You’re enough for me,” Jack whispers. Kent’s fingers tighten where they’re fisted in the back of Jack’s shirt. “Please don’t doubt that.”

Kent sniffles a little in answer, muffled against Jack’s shoulder.

“I would want to live with my husband,” Jack says slowly, carefully thinking over each word, all too aware of the fragile boy in his arms. “And I wouldn’t want to hide it.”

Kent pulls back from the hug, just a little, just enough for their eyes to meet. Kent’s are a stormy blue in the dim lighting of Jack’s bedroom, clouded over with tears. Another wave of guilt washes over Jack for making Kent cry.

“I’ll come out,” Kent declares, and there’s a hint of a real smile on his lips now. “You know that _I_ know it’s been a long time coming. The only reason I haven’t yet is because the press won’t leave us alone once I do.”

Jack takes a small step back and sits back down on the bed, but this time, he tugs Kent down with him, until Kent is straddling his thighs.

“I have an idea,” Jack says, and Kent’s smile grows. Jack is suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him, so he does, because he _can,_ and Kent kisses back so _softly_. For several long moments, Jack loses himself in kissing Kent, reveling in his soft lips and the way that Kent loves to bite Jack’s bottom lip, and the soft sounds Kent makes when Jack’s lips trail down his neck. 

“What’s your idea?” Kent asks quietly. His hands are in Jack’s hair and Jack’s hands are on his waist, holding him tight; their faces are still so close together, just a breath apart. Kent’s flushed and smiling now, and Jack wouldn’t even have been able to tell that Kent had been close to tears a few minutes ago if he hadn’t already known. 

“It’s several steps,” Jack says, and Kent’s grin grows because he just _knows_ how much Jack likes to plan. “Step one is one of us getting traded and moving in together.”

Kent nods, face going serious again. “Step two?” 

Jack leans in for another soft kiss as he runs his hands up and down Kent’s back soothingly. “Step two is getting married.”

“Yeah?” Kent asks, breathless and looking at Jack like he hung the moon. 

Jack grins and says, “ _Yes_.” 

Kent’s answering smile is blindingly beautiful, and this time, he’s the one to kiss Jack, more passionate than sweet this time. It’s fucking _intoxicating_ , and it’s several minutes before Jack remembers that he hasn’t finished describing his plan. He pulls back and Kent leans in to chase his mouth; he’s only stopped by Jack’s finger on his lips, prompting him to open his eyes and pout.

“Step three,” Jack begins and drops his finger, and Kent perks back up. “It’s up to you, because it’s your choice, but maybe—well, what if you don’t come out properly? What if we just get married and, y’know, that’ll just make it pretty clear?” 

Kent laughs, carefree and happy, and he’s nodding before Jack can even doubt that he’s on board. “ _God_ , that’s perfect! It’ll blow everyone’s minds that not only am I gay, but I’m also _married_ , and married to _Jack Zimmermann_ , no less.”

“Good,” Jack says, smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt. “I want a summer wedding.”

They’re quiet again, for just a moment, while Kent stares at Jack with hearts in his eyes, and Jack stares back, and in that moment, Jack feels sixteen again. He feels young and optimistic and so in love with Kent that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s been a long fucking time since he was that kid, before his anxiety got the better of him and everything changed and—and he and Kent have a whole messy history behind them now because of it, but they’ve got that feeling back. Jack feels it every time they kiss, but _god_ , he feels it in his bones right now. He’ll do anything for this boy.

So caught up in his thoughts, Jack doesn’t even notice that Kent’s moved his hands from Jack’s hair until Kent is shifting on Jack’s lap so he can reach into his pocket. For the second time tonight, Kent pulls out a small black box.

The ring is a perfect fit.


	3. getting back together!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt: pimms getting back together fic where this time it's jack pursuing kent and just them taking it slow and falling back in love. give me jack wooing kent and my boys being soft with each other pls

It’s 3 a.m. and Jack can’t sleep. He’s always been a light sleeper, when he somehow manages to sleep-- he needs complete darkness and complete silence, and _sometimes_ that’s enough for his insomnia to just let him rest. 

Howard Hall is never quiet, not even for a second. Even now, the middle of the night on a Tuesday, Jack can hear footsteps in the room above him, someone playing guitar down the hall, and loud voices from the room underneath him. All of the lights in his room are off and the curtains are drawn, but the room remains stubbornly well lit from the lamp post right outside. Jack pulls his pillow over his head and contemplates smothering himself with it.

Back in the Q, some of the hotels they’d stayed at on roadies had been like this, all constant noise and light, but Jack had never had trouble sleeping back then. It had helped, having Kent in his bed.

Jack groans into the pillow and tosses it aside abruptly. _Fuck_.

Jack’s been doing his level best not to think about Kent Parson, and he likes to think that he’s doing a pretty good job. He still thinks of Kent everyday, but sometimes it’s only _once_ a day, and that’s improvement. Hell, Jack doesn’t even dream about him every night anymore.

It’s harder, though, when he’s alone, laying in a bed that doesn’t feel like his yet. It’s too loud, too bright, and Jack’s heart hasn’t stopped aching since he left home. Rationally, he knows things will pick up-- he’ll get to know his teammates and his classmates, and he won’t be so alone.

No matter how rational, those thoughts don’t make him feel any better. Moments like this, Jack misses his pills and Kent in almost equal amounts.

Though the room is far from dark, Jack’s phone is still so bright that it hurts his eyes when he turns it on. He dims the brightness and stares at his lock screen, still set to the default picture that came with the phone, until the screen goes dark again.

There’s a whole list of reasons why Jack shouldn’t call Kent. _Good_ reasons.

There’s another list, though, of reasons why he _should_ call Kent. It’s a shorter list, but its two points are… influential, to say the least.

Point one: Jack misses Kent.

Point two: Jack loves Kent. 

He can deny it all he likes, but Jack’s trying to lie to himself less these days. He recognizes his own faults now, or at least he tries to-- he knows he’s an addict, he knows he gets irrational when he’s angry, and he knows that he loves Kent. He’d stop loving him if he could, but it’s abundantly clear by now that he can’t.

Jack turns on his phone again and clicks over to his contacts. Years ago, he’d set his _favorites_ , and he never got around to changing them, so pinned at the top of his contacts list are his mom, his dad, and Kent.

The name in Jack’s phone doesn’t actually say Kent, though. It says _kenny <3_. When Jack closes his eyes, he can still remember the way that Kent had grinned, even while blushing bright red, as he passed back Jack’s new phone with his contact info saved. Jack still remembers kissing the smile off Kent’s face.

3 a.m. Boston time is only midnight Vegas time and Kent picks up on the first ring. 

“Hello?” Kent’s voice sounds tired and confused, but _god_ , so familiar and so welcome, the relief of hearing him feels so good that it almost hurts. Jack doesn’t know what to say, until Kent prompts, even more quietly, “Jack?”

“Kenny,” Jack whispers. “Hey.”

“Are you okay? Did something happen?”

Something about Kent’s concern, even after everything, after not speaking to him for months, makes Jack smile.

“Nothing happened,” Jack answers. He takes a deep breath and counts to three. “I miss you.”

Kent makes a quiet sound, something vulnerable and involuntary, and Jack tries to force his hands to stop shaking.

“I miss you too, Zimms.”

Tears prick at the corners of Jack’s eyes and he steadily ignores them. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t called,” Jack whispers. He closes his eyes and rolls onto his side, clutching his phone too tight, and pretends that he can imagine Kent is there with him, wrapped around him, warm and familiar and _right_. It’s still August, but Jack feels cold without the warmth of Kent in bed with him.

“It’s okay,” Kent replies, just as soft, and Jack can tell that his throat is thick with tears too. “I-- I’m glad you called now.” 

“I think I might be making a mistake,” Jack says, and he hasn’t even realized he’s been thinking it until the words are already out of his mouth. “I don’t know what I’m doing at Samwell when I should be with you.” 

Kent is quiet for a moment; Jack can hear him breathing, and it’s more soothing than he would’ve expected.

“Do you not like it there?”

“I don’t know,” Jack admits. “I just-- I don’t know. I can’t sleep in this loud fucking dorm on this lumpy mattress.”

Kent laughs quietly, and that sound makes Jack smile again.

“It’s, what, your first week?” Kent asks; he doesn’t wait for Jack to answer. “It’ll be an adjustment, you’ll be okay.”

“Is it weird that I still hate sleeping alone?” 

It’s really a rhetorical question-- Jack _knows_ that it’s weird. It’s been just over two years since he’s shared a bed with Kent, and even back then, they could only get away with it on roadies and when their billet families weren’t home.

“It’s not weird,” Kent whispers, thousands of miles away, but Jack tries to pretend that those words are whispered right into his ear. Kent had always loved whispering to Jack; he’d loved the way it always gave Jack goosebumps. Every whispered sentence was punctuated with a kiss to Jack’s neck, and it would never be long before Jack was begging Kent for more.

“I miss you,” Jack says again. There’s only one other thing he can think to say. “I love you.” 

“ _Jack_.” Kent is silent for just a breath, but that second feels like eternity. Jack hadn’t even realized that his hands had stopped shaking until now, because they start again. And then, Kent lets out a soft whisper, “I love you too.”

They’re both quiet. A few tears slip down Jack’s cheeks; he can hear Kent breathing, and it sounds like he’s crying too.

“Can you come see me?” Jack asks, voice small, and he’s waiting for Kent to say _no_.

Kent doesn’t say no.

“I can skip practice tomorrow,” Kent says immediately. He starts talking so fast, sounding breathless as he says, “I-- I’ll tell them it’s a family emergency, okay? Preseason hasn’t started yet, it should be okay. I can be on a flight in a few hours. It’s only five hours nonstop, I can be there by the time you wake up.”

“Okay,” Jack agrees, relieved beyond belief. Finally. _Finally_ , he’ll get to see Kent again. On tv isn’t enough, in old selfies on Jack’s camera roll isn’t _enough_ , not when Jack has been missing him since 2009 and loving him since long before that. “Kenny, I… I can’t wait to see you.”

“I love you,” Kent says again, easy as breathing. Jack can hear the smile in his voice. “This-- you and me, it’s… it’s fucking meant to be, isn’t it? Us, back together?” 

Jack rolls over onto his back; there’s no use trying to draw on his memories and pretending that Kent is here spooning him-- he doesn’t need that when Kent is going to actually _be here_ in a few hours. For a second, Jack wonders if he’s dreaming, but he can’t be; his dreams about Kent have never ended happily for either of them. His dorm seems much quieter than before, but maybe that’s just because all he can focus on is Kent’s sweet voice in his hear. Jack smiles up at the water stained ceiling.

“Us, back together,” Jack echoes, sounding awed even to his own ears. “Soulmates, eh?”

Kent laughs, sudden and loud. “Are you really still chirping me for that comment?"

“It was cute then and it’s still cute now,” Jack says, laughing too. He feels lighter than he has in a long time. “You get so _sappy_ when you’re drunk.”

“You can’t even chirp me about this, because I definitely remember how you kissed me when I said that.”

Jack makes a quiet humming noise. “That’s irrelevant, I just always like to kiss you.”

“You have two whole years of no kissing to make up for,” Kent teases. For a second, Jack feels guilty and sad for all the time they’ve wasted, but he doesn’t let himself linger on that negativity.

“I’ll do my best,” Jack promises. “Two years and three months of kisses, stored up and ready to deposit.” 

Kent’s answering laugh is everything that Jack’s been missing since he overdosed.

“I need to get packing,” Kent says, sounding almost apologetic. “I can probably stay for a few days, if-- if that’s okay?”

“I wish you could stay longer,” Jack admits.

“You really are all or nothing, aren’t you?” There are rustling sounds on the other line, like Kent’s shoving clothes into his old duffle bag. “I’ll come see you as much as I can, baby.” 

“I’m your baby again?” Jack asks, half chirping and half overwhelmingly fond. He’s missed this, he’s missed fucking everything about Kent, even the little things he hasn’t thought about in ages, like Kent’s love for terms of endearment and the way he steals the blankets and how his kisses always taste like flavored chapstick. 

“Yeah,” Kent answers, quiet again. “If you want, yeah.”

“Yeah, Kenny,” Jack says, still smiling. “I want it.”

“ _Good_ ,” Kent declares, all faux cocky bravado that makes Jack smother a laugh into his pillow. “Now get your ass to bed, okay? I need to pack and get on a plane so I can cash in on all those kisses.”

“I’ll see you soon,” Jack responds, and though he’s not quite ready to hang up, he’s _beyond_ ready to see Kent in person, and he doesn’t want to hold him up. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Kent says again, and Jack can hear the smile in his voice.

For the first time in a long time, it feels like everything is going to be okay.


	4. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This prompt was for a Halloween party and couples costumes! And dorky fluff!

“That is the sloppiest thing I have ever seen,” Shitty declares, loud enough that Jack and Kent should’ve heard him, but they remain too distracted by each other to notice. Lardo snorts.

“I’m surprised they haven’t left yet,” Lardo points out. They both keep watching the two obnoxious lovebirds, Kent perched in Jack’s lap and Jack’s hands _all over him_ , as they whisper to each other and kiss intermittently. Kent’s vampire makeup, which had once looked impressively spooky, with realistic-looking blood dripping down his chin, is now smeared all over both his and Jack’s faces. Jack’s werewolf ears fell on the floor half an hour ago, when Kent had been petting his hair like a dog.

Lardo doesn’t know Kent too well, but she’s never pegged Jack to be a huge fan of public displays of affection; they’ve both got to be drunk out of their minds. She considers the tub juice in her cup, frowning for a second. It’s possible that she’s _also_ drunk out of her mind.

“Lards?”

Lardo looks up, startled by Shitty’s voice, but, oh, apparently he’s been talking the whole time she’s been communing with her tub juice. “What?”

Shitty grins. “I _said_ , they’ll probably leave soon because Parse obviously wants to suck Jack’s… blood.”

They both burst out laughing at that, which is finally enough to get the attention of Kent. He glares half-heartedly at them.

“I heard that,” Kent whines, which only makes Lardo and Shitty laugh harder. Shitty doubles over, laughing so hard that his cowboy hat falls off. Lardo grins wide.

“ _Actually_ —” Jack starts to say something, but he’s suddenly cut off by Kent clapping his hand over Jack’s mouth.

“Nope. Do _not_.”

Jack pries Kent’s hand away, laughing, and then Jack grabs at Kent’s hands, and Kent gives easily, which—uh. _Interesting_.

Then, while Kent can’t cover Jack’s mouth again, Jack turns to Lardo and says, “When we were getting ready, Kent kept saying in this vampire voice, _I vant to suck your dick.”_

Jack even does the vampire voice, which sends Shitty and Lardo into a new fit of hysterics, while Kent shakes his head in exasperation, though he’s still smiling at Jack, looking as lovestruck as ever. _God_ , those two are sappy.

Ransom and Holster stick their heads out of the kitchen, both of them already grinning.

“I really want to know what I missed,” Holster declares.

“Why is Parse bright red and why is Shitty on the floor?” Ransom asks.

They’re all laughing way too hard to answer.


	5. Kit Purrson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Jack meets Kit for the first time.

“What if she hates me?” Jack asks, and he can’t help how nervous it comes out. He _knows_ he’s just making himself more anxious by fixating on what could go wrong, but the thoughts just keep coming. “What if she hisses at me?”

Kent rolls his eyes.

“She’s a cat, she hisses sometimes,” Kent points out impatiently. He’s got his hand on the doorknob, ready to go inside his apartment; Jack has had them stalled outside the front door for several anxious minutes now. “She won’t hate you, and if she doesn’t take to you right away, she’ll definitely get over it.”

_Or she’ll hate me forever and you’ll eventually realize that she’s right and you’ll break up with me and everything will be awful again_ , Jack wants to say. He doesn’t, though, because Kent doesn’t need to know that Kit’s approval may literally make or break Jack’s confidence in their relationship. She’s just a _cat_ , yeah, and Jack doesn’t even like cats, but-- Kent loves her more than anything. If Jack wants Kent to love him too, Kit has to like him.

“Alright,” Jack says with a sigh. “Let’s go in.”

When they walk in the apartment, there’s no cat to be seen. Jack starts to relax, just for a second, thinking that they can put off their inevitable meeting until later, but then-- Kit emerges.

She bursts out from under the couch at record speed, a blur of gray fur, running right over to Kent to rub up against his legs and purr louder than Jack has ever heard a cat purr before. Kent grins and scoops Kit up into his arms, holding her like a baby, which is just-- it’s honestly ridiculous how cute it is and how much it makes Jack want to kiss Kent.

Instead of kissing Jack, Kent kisses the top of Kit’s head while she purrs contentedly, eyes closed in bliss. Jack’s never wanted to be a cat before this very moment and it’s a disconcerting feeling.

“This would be a good time to introduce yourself,” Kent says when he looks up at Jack, still smiling. All his earlier impatience seems assuaged by holding Kit in his arms.

Jack heaves another weary sigh and steps closer. He looks down at Kit, who seems to hear him coming, because she opens her impossibly blue eyes to stare up at him. The purring ceases abruptly and Jack feels a sharp sting of panic.

“Please don’t hate me,” Jack says quietly, holding up his hands to show that he’s no threat to her. He’s not sure if that’s how cats work, but it’s worth a shot. He’s very aware of Kent watching him with a bemused expression on his face. “I swear I come in peace.”

Kent laughs until Jack looks away from Kit to glare at him.

“Try petting her, that’ll be more effective than just staring,” he suggests.  

Jack would love to get through this day without having his hands mauled by a cat, but-- well, he _needs_ her to like him. He reaches out, slowly so she can see him coming, and gently pets the top of her head. After one long, tense moment, she closes her eyes.

Jack keeps petting, and _wow_ , she’s even softer than he’d predicted, and _then_ … Kit starts to purr, just as loud as before. Jack grins, triumphant, and on a whim, he leans in even closer and does exactly what Kent did: he kisses the top of her fuzzy little head.

When Jack raises his head, he’s still grinning; the smile on Kent’s face, though, is much softer. Without thinking, as easy as breathing, Jack steps closer and kisses Kent, as softly as he’d kissed the cat. There’s something overwhelmingly sweet and _domestic_ about kissing Kent while he’s holding Kit, especially when Jack places a hand on her side to keep himself from squishing her as he moves closer, and he can _feel_ the gentle vibration of her purr.

Jack thinks that they probably make a pretty cute family.


	6. boys with feelings and also superpowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Pimms superhero AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: passing mention of Jack's overdose, one minor instance of self-harm (details in footnotes)

“This is reckless, even for you.”

Kent snorts, derisive and angry, and turns away from Jack’s cold glare. He hesitates for a second, deciding on whether to take his suit off or not-- on the one hand, he doesn’t want Jack to see the bruises, but on the other hand, he _really_ doesn’t feel like having this fucking conversation while dressed in black leather. 

“I really don’t need your judgment,” Kent points out while he fumbles his way out of the suit, his movements clumsy with exhaustion. It falls to the ground in a messy heap that he scoops up, then walks into his bedroom in just his underwear, knowing Jack will follow.

“Why are you doing this?” Jack asks, softer now. Kent has his back to him while he hastily drops the suit in his hamper and pulls a shirt on, but he can already feel Jack’s gaze trained him, cataloging each bruise and scar littering his back. Kent takes a deep breath before he turns around again.

“I’m doing it because I _can_ ,” Kent says, tossing his hands up in exasperation. “Jack, there are people that need help and I can help them. It’s that simple!”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Jack responds immediately, so easily riled up again. His arms are crossed over his chest, all opposition and anger, and a long time ago, Kent would’ve cried himself to sleep at night for making Jack look so angry and unstable. These days, though, he’s come to terms with Jack’s disapproval of all of Kent’s choices.

Kent looks away from Jack, jaw clenched and hands curled into fists at his sides. 

“I really didn’t think you cared.” 

They’re both quiet for a moment and Kent finally starts to notice all his _aches_ ; if Jack weren’t here, he’d already be in an ice bath.

“Of course I care,” Jack says eventually, and Kent-- Jesus, Kent doesn’t even know what that tone means. He looks back up, and Jack’s ice blue eyes meet his. For a second, Kent feels cold, down to his very bones, before Jack blinks and his eyes go a little darker blue, and the room gets warm again. 

Jack hasn’t slipped in his control in a very long time; Kent feels guilt gnawing at him for causing it now.

Kent sits down on the edge of his bed, and Jack must take that as an invitation, because he sits down too, so close that their shoulders are brushing.

“We said we’d never do this,” Jack whispers, something raw and tired in his voice. “You promised me you wouldn’t.”

Kent sighs again and lets himself lean heavily against Jack. All the fight’s gone out of him; he’s too fucking tired. 

“We said we wouldn’t do it because we were in love,” Kent points out, too exhausted to hide how much the words hurt him. “Or-- I mean, I thought we were. But whatever. We only said it to keep each other safe.” 

“I still want you safe,” Jack says, no hesitation. Kent’s heart clenches in his chest. 

“That’s not enough.”

Kent startles when he feels Jack’s hand on his thigh, grounding and warm-- it means something, that Jack’s hand isn’t cold.

“Jack,” Kent says softly. God, this is going to hurt when Jack walks out his door again. 

“Kenny,” is Jack’s answer, as quiet and gentle as Jack’s always said his name. “We _were_ in love, it wasn’t just you.”

It’s too much. Kent stands abruptly, dislodging Jack’s hand and taking a hurried step away. This-- he can’t do this. Things are hard enough right now, trying to be a hero and _save_ people and never let his identity slip, and he’s just so _tired_. His feelings for Jack are always a low-level hurt, and Kent doesn’t need to make that worse.

“You should go,” he says, voice tight and controlled. His fists are clenched to hide their trembling, and Kent counts to ten in his head, and he fucking prays that Jack can’t tell how close he is to panic. He loves this boy, loves him more than anything in the world, and he can’t fucking take it anymore-- Jack just sitting there, _judging him_ with cold eyes and lying about loving Kent in some misguided attempt to get him to stop his vigilantism. That’s low, even for Jack, and Kent hates that he still lets Jack break his heart like this.

“I’m not lying,” Jack says, because even after everything, he still always seems to know what Kent is thinking. “I loved you.”

The past tense hurts a lot more than it should.

Kent’s fists are clenched so tight, he can feel his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands, drawing blood. It’s not as welcome of a distraction as he wishes it was. “That doesn’t matter anymore.” 

“It _matters_ ,” Jack refutes, standing quickly and reaching for Kent before he even has a chance to react. He doesn’t quite know what to do with himself when Jack’s strong arms wrap around him-- but muscle memory kicks in, and he’s relaxing into the embrace, holding Jack tight and burying his face in the crook of Jack’s neck.

The last time Jack had held Kent like this, they were seventeen. That hug had felt like goodbye, and Kent hadn’t known why until hours later, when he found Jack in that bathroom.

This hug doesn’t feel like that.

“It matters,” Jack says again, a whisper this time. “At least for me, it still matters.” 

“Jack…,” Kent whispers back, muffled against Jack’s shoulder. He should let go, he should step back, he should tell Jack to _leave_ before this hurts any worse. “Why did you come over tonight?”

Jack holds Kent a little tighter for just a second, before relaxing again. There’s no trace of coldness in his words when he says, “I saw you on the news, and I-- I knew it was you. In that video, you got knocked down, and it took a minute for you to get back up.”

Jack takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. His hands on Kent’s back are shaking.

“I had to come over to see if you’re okay, because you-- you’re _you_ , and I--” Jack cuts himself off suddenly, pressing his face into Kent’s hair while he breathes slowly, fighting back the hyperventilation. After a moment, Kent feels Jack’s warm tears on his forehead. He’s burning with a thousand things he needs to say, but he knows Jack isn’t finished, so he bites his lip, ignores the tears in his own eyes, and waits.

“I don’t want to be in a world without you in it,” Jack finally says, choked with tears. “I still love you.”

Everything stops.

Kent breathes. He counts to ten. He wishes he could see Jack’s face, because even though that boy is far from an open book, Kent learned how to read him before and maybe he can learn again. Maybe they can do this again.

It’s stupid, _god_ , it’s so stupid, because Jack wants Kent to stop being a hero, and Kent _can’t_. He’s finally found something that he’s good at, some way to be useful, and he can’t let Jack take that away. There are people that need him, and Kent is _tired_ of sitting by and letting people get hurt when he could be making a difference.

His thoughts are racing at breakneck speed, and he _knows_ , he knows, he knows that he shouldn’t do this, he _can’t do this_ , it doesn’t matter if he loves Jack. It doesn’t fucking matter if Jack is the love of his life. It doesn’t matter that Kent feels the best he’s felt in years, wrapped up in Jack’s embrace. He can’t do this. 

A deep breath. Another.  

 _Fuck_.

Time starts again.

Kent pulls back a little, just enough so he can look Jack in the eyes-- those blue, blue eyes, warm as a cloudless sky in June.

Kent moves his hands from Jack’s back and cups his cheeks, gently wiping away the tears. They’re so silent, you could hear a pin drop.

“I love you too,” Kent says, and kisses Jack before he can let either of them second guess this again.

Kissing Jack is as familiar as breathing, all soft and _warm_ and right. He loses himself in the press of Jack’s lips against his, and it’s like time is stopping again, like they’re the only two people in the whole world who are moving, who are in love, who are _alive_.

When they part, Jack is sporting a rare smile and an even rarer blush. Jack is always beautiful, but he’s usually beautiful in the way that a frozen lake it beautiful-- a sight to see, but so untouchable. Dangerous; always a risk of falling into the frozen depths. But _this_ Jack is glowing like he’s victorious, like he’s real, like he’s _human_.

“I want this, I want _you_ ,” Jack says. His smile slips a little. “Please don’t put the suit back on.”

Kent’s thoughts must show on his face, because Jack starts to frown.

“The city needs me,” he says, honest and raw, and he’d step away if Jack wasn’t still holding him. “But maybe-- I don’t have to do it alone.”

Their eyes meet, and the connection feels fucking _electric_.

“You’re telling me you want to become a crime-fighting duo?” Jack asks, sounding half-skeptical, but starting to grin again-- that beautiful fucking smirk that he’s only ever broken out while causing trouble.

Kent finds himself grinning too. 

“We’re fucking dynamite together, Zimms. Like how we used to mess around as kids, but-- actually doing something important with it.”

Jack just _looks_ at Kent for a long moment, and then he nods once.

“I’ll watch your back,” Jack says, smile softening as he makes a futile attempt to smooth back Kent’s cowlick.

“And I’ll watch yours,” Kent responds. 

When Jack kisses Kent this time, it’s sweet and warm for a minute, but they’ve never been much for taking it slow. Kent makes a quiet sound, and then it’s more urgent and more messy, all passion and excitement, the way they’ve always been, exactly what Kent’s been missing. The inside of Jack’s mouth is cold; Kent shivers when their tongues touch-- and the thing is, this isn’t Jack losing control. Jack knows _exactly_ what he’s doing, and he knows _exactly_ how Kent reacts to the cold when Jack’s got him all hot.

Kent moans into Jack’s mouth and presses closer, and-- _fuck_ , he’s missed this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The self-harm is just Kent clenching his fists too hard and his fingernails cutting his skin, but I want to warn just in case!
> 
>  
> 
> I'm sure you all have Questions, like what exactly are Kent's powers, and what mysterious things have happened between Jack and Kent in this AU without hockey... and honestly, I don't know. I made this up as I went along. I'm preemptively sorry for not having answers!!


	7. can't keep my hands to myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt: they’re at some fancy event, kent looks gorgeous, and jack is struggling to keep his eyes (and hands) to himself.
> 
> TW: light d/s themes

“You’re staring again.”

Jack immediately blushes bright red and turns to glare at his dad, who’s seated to his left. They’re at a charity benefit, seated around huge tables piled high with plates of food that cost a _lot_ of money. Jack doesn’t usually mind these sorts of events-- he’s got plenty of money to give and he loves to spend time with his parents, and since it’s the offseason, there’s the added bonus of Kent usually being around too. 

The problem is, though, that Kent isn’t seated at their table, so Jack can’t spend the whole night talking to him instead of all the strangers in the room that keep wanting to shake his hand and ask about his summer plans. Really, it’s _fine_ , Jack doesn’t mind talking to his parents to avoid all the other people. It’s just that-- well, Kent keeps drawing his eye. He’s seated one table over, in Jack’s direct line of sight, so he can easily watch Kent’s profile, which is just… captivating. Kent’s suit is tailored _perfectly_ , emphasizing his broad shoulders, and Jack finds himself staring again as he watches Kent laugh at something someone said, his head thrown back and smiling wide. When Kent shifts just _so_ , Jack can see the faint edge of the hickey he left on Kent’s neck only last night, and he’d give just about anything right now for the chance to give Kent another.

Bob clears his throat loudly and Jack jumps.

“I’m not _staring_ ,” Jack whispers fervently, and Bob just rolls his eyes, which is fair, because Jack knows that he’s a lying liar who lies. “It’s just-- I like his suit.”

Alicia leans around Bob, grinning at Jack, and he just _knows_ that she’s about to chirp the shit out of him. 

“If you like his suit so much, why are you undressing him with your eyes?” she asks, and then her and Bob both start laughing. Jack just groans, hiding his face in his hands, and regrets ever thinking that he could possibly enjoy spending time around his parents. 

When he looks back up, Alicia is still laughing at her own chirp, but Bob is back to eating, and no one else at their table seems to be paying any attention to them. But when Jack looks away from his ridiculously embarrassing parents, his eyes meet Kent’s.

Kent smiles immediately, and for the millionth time just this night, Jack is reminded just how gorgeous his boy is. Kent’s cowlick has stubbornly refused to be gelled back, making him look just rumpled enough to have Jack _dying_ to run his fingers through his hair and free the rest of it from its gelled confines. And then there’s just that fucking _suit_. God, as if it fitting Kent perfectly wasn’t enough to have Jack thinking a whole slew of inappropriate things to be thinking anywhere near his parents, even the _color_ of it looks perfect on Kent. Between the dark navy of the suit and the light blue of the tie, Kent’s eyes look bluer than they’ve ever looked, even from as far away as Jack is. He can only imagine how good they look up close. 

Kent raises a brow at Jack, smirking and _knowing_. Jack blushes again, because he has unfairly fair skin, and just smiles back helplessly. He wishes, not for the first time tonight, that it wouldn’t be weird if he took his phone out right now to take pictures of Kent. He’ll just have to do it later, he figures-- once they’re alone and Jack can kiss that smile off Kent’s lips and peel him out of those tight pants… Yeah, that would be a pretty picture. 

Jack swallows thickly and makes himself look away again. He can still feel Kent’s eyes on him, but he busies himself with eating the intricate chocolate dessert in front of him-- until his phone vibrates in his pocket. He already knows exactly who’s texting him.

kenny <3: _if you leave the room and go all the way down the hall and to the right, there’s an unlocked storage closet_

Jack can’t help but snort quietly; he ignores the look his dad gives him and texts back, _You’re a ridiculous person, we’re not sneaking off to hook up like a bunch of teenagers._

When Jack looks over at Kent again, he sees Kent staring down at his phone with a small smile, typing quickly. Jack knows that smile is because of _him_ , and Kent is just so _cute_.

kenny <3: _okay but consider this: we could be really quick and no one would even notice_

kenny <3: _it’s not like we’ll get the chance later since your parents are staying at your place and i’d feel really weird if they heard you fucking me_

kenny <3: _i just wanna kiss your face_

kenny <3: _please?_  

Was there ever really a doubt that Jack would do anything that Kent asks? He glances over again, at Kent’s hopeful, smiling, _incredibly fucking handsome_ face, and then he nudges his dad. 

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom,” Jack says as he stands up.

“Tell Kent I said hi,” Bob responds with a grin, which gets Alicia giggling again, and it’s Jack’s turn to roll his eyes.

Jack only has to wait in the storage closet for a few minutes before the door opens and Kent steps inside, smiling at Jack like he’s just won the Stanley Cup. Jack wants to chirp him for it, but they _really_ don’t have a lot of time; instead, he reaches out for Kent, running his hands over his shoulders and down his back, and pulls Kent closer, kissing him hard. 

They kiss for several long moments, while Jack touches Kent everywhere he can reach, careful not to rumple the suit, and Kent makes soft sounds into Jack’s mouth. Jack would love to shove Kent against the closed door and fuck him right here, but he _can’t_. People would definitely notice if Kent Parson came back into the party looking thoroughly debauched, which means that Jack should only debauch him a _little_.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Jack whispers when he pulls back just a little, which prompts Kent to _whine_ as his hips shift against Jack’s thigh between his legs. “Be good, Kenny.”

Kent stops moving his hips, obedient and beautiful as ever. His eyes really do look so fucking _blue_ right now, just like Jack knew they would.

“If you can be quiet and _patient_ , I’ll blow you,” Jack promises, and _god_ , he relishes the way that Kent moans at just his words. “You can get me off tonight, after my parents are asleep. What do you think, baby? Can you be patient enough to wait?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Kent agrees emphatically as he nods, eager to please, and Jack just _has_ to reward him with a kiss. He backs Kent up against the door, _gently_ to avoid wrinkling the suit, and gets to his knees. When he looks back up at Kent, those blue _blue_ eyes are almost completely black with desire, and Kent’s already biting his lip to keep himself quiet.

“Be good and don’t fuck up my hair, okay?”

Kent nods again, and Jack starts unbuckling his belt. Fuck, he’s wanted this all _night_. Kent is perfect and so beautiful, and all _Jack’s._ He gets Kent’s pants and underwear around his ankles, then presses a soft kiss to each of Kent’s perfect thighs-- half to tease him, but also just because Jack is _obsessed_ with Kent’s thick, strong thighs. Every inch of this man’s body is perfect.  

“ _Good boy,_ ” he whispers, then takes Kent into his mouth.


	8. sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "How do you feel about prompt sequels? Because anything else in the "Jack and Kent get back together while Jack's at Samwell" verse would be great."
> 
> This takes place pretty much directly after the fill from CHAPTER THREE.

“Hey, babe?” Kent says, looking over at Jack with a sly grin as they walk along the river, hand in hand. “One in four?” 

“It seems true enough,” Jack answers, smiling back easily. It feels almost surreal, being with Kent like this, reunited after two long years and actually _holding hands_ in _public_. They both have baseball caps on to hide their faces, matching Samwell red purchased from the school store an hour ago; besides, Jack doubts that anyone would look twice at them anyways. It’s been years now since Jack’s face has been splashed all over the news, and while Kent is a strong player who will probably make captain this year, he’s still just a young guy on a West Coast expansion team that’s never won the Cup-- the anonymity feels good. It’s a beautiful day out and they’ve already passed half a dozen other couples holding hands just like them, and several of them were definitely not straight either, and it’s a breath of fresh air in more ways than one.

Jack’s still not sold on Samwell, but he could find himself getting used to the feeling of being around other queer people.

Beside the river on this cloudless day, Kent’s eyes are impossibly blue. His freckles are late-summer dark and his tan has yet to fade, and he’s even more beautiful in the sunlight than Jack remembered from their teenage summers. He squeezes Kent’s hand in his own and Kent squeezes back immediately. This softness is thrillingly new, and yet, being by Kent’s side feels as familiar as skates cutting into fresh ice.

Jack never thought that he’d get to have this again, and he’s never been more happy to be proven wrong.

“We should go on a proper date,” Kent declares a few moments later, once they’ve wandered past three different libraries. “We’ve never-- and, I mean, I want to do this right, you know?”

Jack can’t help but smile softly, already nodding, even though Kent is staring studiously ahead, like he can’t bear to see the look on Jack’s face. Jack stops walking, tugging Kent to a standstill.

“A date,” Jack echoes, and Kent turns to meet his eyes, a bright grin blossoming in replacement of the frown that Jack’s always hated to see. “Let’s do it.”

In their ambling walk, they’ve wandered off the beaten path; there’s little to be seen around them but the bricks under their feet, the towering history building to their left, and a large tree to their right. They’re alone, and that makes Jack feel bold enough to step in close to Kent.

Jack leans in-- and then abruptly remembers both of their hats. They both laugh as Jack takes his hat off and Kent spins his around, and then they’re kissing.

It’s not their first kiss since Kent arrived early this morning, but those kisses had been desperate, hurried, eager to relearn each other. _This_ kiss is slow and soft, and Jack thinks Kent tastes how summer feels. He’s _sunshine_ , warm and bright, and Jack is helpless against the gravity finally pulling him back into Kent’s orbit.

When they part, Kent’s flushed from more than just the heat, and Jack wishes, suddenly and viscerally, that he could see Kent smile like this every single day of his life.

Kent bites his lip, visibly hesitating for a second, and then his voice is impossibly soft when he says, “I’m glad you called.”

Jack cups Kent’s face and kisses him again. 


	9. the Epikegster ending we deserved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Pimms prompt: the Epikegster reunion goes way better than in canon. Next morning, Jack and Parse come down for breakfast looking very obviously in love."

Bitty knows exactly what to expect the morning after a kegster-- he knows that the haus will be a mess, he knows there will always be a random guy asleep on the nasty couch, and he knows that the frogs will already be working on cleaning the kitchen if they have any hopes of Bitty making them breakfast.

All of his expectations are correct, Bitty notices with a hint of amusement. He says good morning to Nursey, Chowder, and Dex, and then starts prepping a breakfast spread.

Making eggs and french toast and bacon is easy, mindless work; Bitty’s mind starts wandering immediately as his hands settle into the familiar rhythm. Last night was… weird. He’d been so excited that Jack decided to hang out for the party, and things had been going so _well_ … Then Kent Parson showed up, throwing an unexpected wrench into Bitty’s plan of flirting with Jack all night. 

Bitty still doesn’t know what to think about Parson-- his first reaction had been excitement over the best player in the league at his haus, but he’d quickly shifted into worry when he saw how pale Jack got when he saw Parson push through the crowd to get to him. And then-- and _then_. 

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, okay? All he was trying to do was pick up his key, and if he lingered there outside Jack’s door for longer than really necessary, no one had to know. After everything, Bitty wishes that he hadn’t lingered at all.

At first, Jack’s voice had been quiet and anxious and Kent’s had been loud, and then they’d both stopped abruptly. Then they were both quiet. Bitty doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, especially because it’s _Jack_ , who’s always seemed like the straightest of all straight men, but… Though Bitty will deny it if asked, he’d moved closer to Jack’s door, and he lingered long enough to hear a soft moan from inside that room.

Bitty takes a deep breath and reminds himself not to over-whisk his eggs. He can hear Nursey and Dex behind him, talking about Kent Parson, because of _course_ that’s what they’re talking about, and-- Bitty has no reason to feel any negativity toward Parson, and he knows that perfectly well. He’d been polite last night, he’d smiled for a selfie. He seemed nice, if a little douchey, but Bitty lives in what’s essentially a frat house, so he really shouldn’t be judging.

The conversation in the dining room stops abruptly, and Bitty looks up to see why. Jack is standing in the doorway, smiling at someone behind him in the hallway; Bitty assumes it’s a hungover Shitty, though that doesn’t usually make Jack look quite so fond. He’s aching to ask Jack what happened last night, what Parson wanted, is Jack okay, did Jack kiss him or did they fight? But even if they weren’t alone, Bitty would never ask Jack any of that and Jack probably wouldn’t answer anyway.

Jack hasn’t even noticed that there are other people in the room; he’s still looking behind himself, and he says, “Come on, there’s breakfast.”

 _Shit_. With that reminder, Bitty turns back to all of his pots and pans, saving a few slices of french toast before they burn. He hears Jack and Shitty come into the kitchen and Jack starts fussing with the temperamental Keurig. Bitty piles the french toast onto a plate and turns around, and-- well, that’s not Shitty.

“We have three different flavors,” Jack is saying, still smiling. Bitty’s never seen Jack smile this much in all the time he’s known him.

Kent Parson is standing in Bitty’s kitchen, smiling right back at Jack.

Bitty only lets himself look for a second, but that’s enough. Parson’s wearing a faded red Samwell tshirt that obviously doesn’t belong to him. There’s the edge of what appears to be a sizable hickey poking out under the collar. He’s holding one of Lardo’s mugs from that time she took a pottery class, standing in _Bitty’s kitchen_ like this is normal, and he’s leaning into Jack’s side and Jack is letting him.

They keep talking about coffee while Bitty rethinks everything he thought he knew. He makes a few more eggs, adding them to the various platters all over the counter, and when he turns around again, his smile is practiced. 

“Breakfast is ready,” he declares, and everyone helps themselves. Chowder re-materializes from wherever he’d been, Ransom and Holster suddenly arrive looking worse for the wear, Shitty and Lardo stumble in looking for coffee, and everyone very politely does not mention the guest in their kitchen.

Bitty eats standing up at the counter, absently shoving bacon and eggs into his mouth even though his appetite is gone, as he watches Jack and Parson from the corner of his eye. They’re both eating, sitting incredibly close together on one side of the dining room table. Jack’s never been one for so much casual affection, and _yet_ , that’s Jack’s hand on Parson’s knee, so maybe Bitty doesn’t know anything. Lord, his mind is still reeling.

“How long can you stay?” Bitty hears Jack ask.

“You have a game tonight, right, bro?” Shitty intervenes before Parson can answer. Lardo elbows Shitty in the side, presumably for interrupting, but Parson is already turning that damnably charming smile on Shitty.

“I do, yeah,” Parson answers with a chuckle and a self-deprecating half-shrug. “I’ve already missed morning skate, so I’ll probably have to go soon or I’ll be scratched from the game.”

Jack and Kent look at each other for a second, communicating silently, and then Jack nods minutely. He’s still _smiling._ He looks content and well-rested and a lot like he got laid last night; it’s disconcerting to see, considering it’s _Jack_.

“I can probably get tickets if you all wanna come to the game?” Parson offers, and the room gets _very_ loud as they all emphatically agree. Parson starts talking about where they’ll pick up the tickets when they get to the arena, and everyone is watching him with something akin to awe; Bitty hates that it’s probably the same awe clearly visible on his own face in that selfie they took last night. He’s going to delete it right after breakfast.

Jack shifts in his seat, still eating breakfast, and Bitty suddenly sees that there’s a hickey on his neck too. _Kent Parson_ put that there.

When Parson asks how many people can come to the game, Bitty lies and makes up plans to work on a group project, then he flees to his room as soon as everyone looks away from him again. He doesn’t think he can stomach looking at Parson for a second longer.

Bitty knows it’s not fair, but... _Lord_ , he hates that boy.


	10. magical realism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "jackparse fairytale au? can be magical realism or just full fairytale, up to you!" 
> 
> TW: mentions of suicide

When Jack smiles, he lights up. **  
**

Literally, he starts to glow a little.

Jack’s gotten pretty good control over his gift, for the most part. He can summon light whenever he wants to, and he’s gotten to the point where he can even make his lights into shapes on dark walls, a reverse hand puppet show that never fails to make Kent irrevocably fond. Jack can make himself glow on command– whether that be just his hands or his entire being. He’s ethereal, in a way, otherworldly and beautiful, and his eyes are always bright, glowing blue. They get brighter when Jack is happy, and Kent’s not even sure that Jack knows this.

“I’ve got purple,” Jack declares one day, the second that Kent lets himself into Jack’s room after school one day. Kent just raises a brow at him, and Jack answers by lifting his hands up, and surely enough, they start to glow purple instead of their usual blue.

“Holy shit!”

Jack laughs, staring down at his own hands, grinning and bright. “Maybe I can do more colors too, I just– I need to keep practicing, but this is so  _cool_.”

“That’s fucking awesome,” Kent agrees as he plops down next to Jack on the bed. Every instinct in his body is telling him to lean into Jack’s side, to take a purple hand in his own, to kiss that smiling mouth– but he resists the urge. “Can you do your whole body?”

Jack frowns a little, focusing, and… He lights up, as bright blue as ever, though his hands stay purple. Kent stares, transfixed, even as Jack starts grumbling about  _doing better_  and  _working harder._

“Don’t tire yourself out, man.” Kent nudges Jack’s shoulder with his own to get his attention. “You don’t need to be a glowstick right now.”

Surely enough, Jack lets the light fade with a quiet sigh. The room feels dark, suddenly, despite the sunlight still outside the window.

Jack leans into Kent’s side for a long moment, then asks in a measured voice, “Are you ever going to tell me what your gift is?”

Kent freezes. Jack’s only ever asked once before, and Kent said he didn’t like to talk about it, and that had been the end of that. This takes Kent by surprise.

“Maybe I don’t have one,” he answers eventually.

Jack snorts, pulling back from Kent’s side to give him an unimpressed look. “I know you do, and you know that I know. I just don’t get why you won’t tell me.”

“It’s not very cool,” Kent offers uselessly; there’s no getting Jack off his back now, like a dog with a fucking bone.

“Is it something bad?”

Kent refuses to meet Jack’s eye, and that’s answer enough.

“I know you won’t hurt me, Kenny,” Jack says softly, and Kent’s heart aches in his chest.

“I’m not worried about  _me_  hurting you.” Kent’s hands are shaking. “You don’t want to know what it is, okay?”

“You’re worrying me.” There’s concern in Jack’s voice and a warm hand on Kent’s thigh.

“My dad had a similar gift,” Kent whispers, almost too quiet to be heard. “He always knew when people were in love.”

“You never talk about your dad.”

“He was a piece of shit. And he got such a good gift and I get this, and it’s not fair, Jack. My gift fucking sucks.”

Jack is quiet, waiting patiently– like he knows Kent will give in and tell him and there’s no use wasting his time trying to pry when he’s going to get what he wants anyways.

“It’s–-” Kent hesitates, looking away from Jack again. There’s a small, stupid part of him that hopes that if he tells Jack how he’ll die, maybe that will stop Jack from doing it. That’s never worked before, but  _maybe_ … Or maybe it will just give Jack more anxiety. Maybe it will send him spiraling down that dark path, too fast for Kent to ever have any hope of pulling him back. “I’ll tell you what it is, but you have to promise not to ask me for details.”

Kent looks back up, at the serious expression on his best friend’s face. Jack nods once, and Kent takes a deep breath.

“When I meet people, I… It’s like my dad’s, like knowing when people are in love? I know something about people too.”

Jack moves his hand off of Kent’s thigh to reach for his hand, sudden and warm, a welcome anchor. “What do you know, Kenny?”

Even now, there’s a faint glow in Jack’s eyes. Kent stares into them, quiet for a moment, and then, “I know how people die.”

Jack makes a quiet noise, a breath of air punched out of his lungs. Kent clings tighter to his hand so Jack can’t let go.

“Kenny–”

“Don’t,” Kent interrupts harshly. “Don’t ask me how you go, Jack.”

“Okay,” Jack acquiesces, surprisingly easily, then pulls Kent into a hug. With Jack’s warm arms wrapped around him, Kent breathes out, heavy and anxious, burying his face in Jack’s shoulders. Maybe it’s okay for now, but it won’t be long until Jack demands more information. Kent isn’t sure he’ll ever be ready to answer all those questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this AU… when Jack overdoses, he does die, even though the doctors revive him. the next time Kent sees him, he’ll see a different cause of death for Jack... or maybe he won't. So that’s a Lot. 
> 
> This is something that I kinda want to turn into a whole fic, so I haven't posted it on here even though I wrote it weeks ago, but god knows when I would ever make this longer anyway, so here it is! Definitely let me know if y'all are interested in more of this AU though! I'm always open for more prompts/cheerleading/inspiration.


	11. anxiety isn't just Jack's thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kent has a panic attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this one wasn't actually a prompt; it's just a short fic I wrote and I want to stick it in here to keep all my writing organized. 
> 
> TW: description of a panic attack, anxiety/depression, minor self harm

Jack doesn’t know how to handle this. He’s never _had_ to, is the thing. When they were kids, Jack was always the one falling apart and Kent was always the one taking care of him. Never the reverse.

Jack wonders, fleetingly, if Kent had needed taking care of back then too, but he’d kept it to himself so he wouldn’t burden Jack with it. Jack hates that he’s probably right.

“Kenny,” Jack says softly, and Kent flinches _hard_ , like he hadn’t heard Jack come into the room; like maybe he forgot that Jack was coming over entirely. Kent’s curled up in bed with his back to the doorway, visibly shaking; his loud, shaky sobs stop abruptly.

Jack hesitates for a second, then walks towards the bed and lays down next to Kent. He’s careful not to touch him just yet.

“What’s going on, bud?” Jack asks, because—God, he has no idea what else to ask. He shifts onto his side, staring at Kent’s back. Now that he’s closer, he can see how Kent has his arms crossed high over his chest, squeezing tight, with his hands grabbing at his shoulders. Jack can see the deep indents from Kent’s fingernails in his skin—twenty perfect crescents from where his grip has shifted—and Kent’s hands are white-knuckled, undoubtedly leaving a third set of marks.

Hesitantly, Jack reaches out and puts his hand over one of Kent’s. Kent’s always been the more tactile one in their relationship, so Jack hopes that the touch will calm him a little, but—Kent jerks away violently, and Jack immediately retracts his hand.

“Don’t touch me,” Kent says, and his voice sounds so tight, like he’s on the verge of panic. Jack can hear him _breathing_ , loud and heavy, like he’s been running a marathon.

Jack feels fucking helpless. Jesus, he feels like he might start panicking too, because he doesn’t know what to _do_ , Kent is supposed to be the strong one here, and maybe _this_ is exactly why Kent’s never mentioned panic attacks to Jack in the years that they were friends and the past few months that they’ve been back together. Jack swallows, throat thick with anxiety, and forces himself to breathe evenly. He _has_ to, for Kent. Kent needs him now. 

“I’m sorry,” Jack says quietly. He wants to touch Kenny, to soothe him, but he doesn’t. “If you want me to go, I can, okay?" 

“ _Jack_ ,” Kent gasps out between breaths, and, _oh_ , he’s crying again. Jack’s heart fucking hurts for his boy, a literal physical pain in his aching chest. “Please—Jack—”

“It’s okay,” Jack reassures quickly, scooting closer so his voice is soft in Kent’s ear. “I won’t go anywhere, baby. Everything is going to be okay.” 

They lay together for a while, Kent breathing fast and Jack’s heart and thoughts racing.

It feels like an eternity before Kent’s breathing slows. Eventually, his grip on his shoulders relaxes and he shifts, just a little, closer to Jack.

“Do you want me to hold you?” Jack asks softly, and Kent gives a jerky little nod in answer. 

Jack rolls back onto his side and curls around Kent, tucking one arm under his own head and wrapping the other around Kent securely. He doesn’t hold too tight, but he covers Kent as much as he can, as if he can protect Kent from the rest of the world like this. He doesn’t know what upset Kent and he’s not sure Kent will tell him even if he asks, but Jack wants to protect him from whatever it was anyway. Gently, he presses a kiss to the nail marks on Kent’s shoulder. 

“I love you,” he whispers, and Kent doesn’t say anything, but Kent’s breathing okay now and he’s stopped crying, and that’s enough. Jack’s going to keep loving him.


	12. star wars AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Kent are Jedi knights with a relationship just bordering on breaking the rules. 
> 
> Jack, wavering and unable to find balance in the Force, draws closer to the Dark Side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one goes out to blithelybonny for all the ideas on the discord! I may eventually turn this into something longer (I have a whole written out plan), but real life is crazy busy right now, so I decided to post it here rather than holding off for a few months and probably just eventually forgetting about it! 
> 
> I hope you all like it!

“Control your emotions,” Jack chides him, glaring at Kent from across the room. Kent twirls his training saber in his hand, rolling his eyes in blatant disregard.

“This isn’t meditation,” Kent points out, steadily advancing while Jack dodges and parries. “A little passion is good for sparring!”

Jack shoves Kent back hard, their sabers clashing, and Kent falls back onto the mat, landing right on his ass. Jack looms over him, a thunderous look in his eyes. Kent probably shouldn’t find that look as attractive as he does.

“You’re distracting us both,” Jack says, holstering his saber and giving Kent a hand up. They’re both sweaty and breathing hard; they lean against each other for a moment before Kent steps away, rolling his shoulders.

“I’m _trying_ to focus,” Kent replies, heaving a tired sigh even as he falls into position once more, Jack mirroring him a few steps away. “You make it difficult.”

“ _Me?_ ” Jack asks, affronted, as he advances and Kent holds his ground. “I’m focusing on _training_ , just like you should be.”

Conversation ceases for a few moments as their sabers clash and their fight takes their feet dancing across the mats, until Kent finally has Jack pinned to the wall with a saber at his throat. Kent smirks victoriously and Jack glares at him again.

“It’s hard to focus on training with you,” Kent says in a low voice, keeping Jack crowded up against the wall. Their bodies are flush against each other and Kent’s loathe to ever pull away. His eyes dart down to Jack’s lips, then back up to his eyes, usually so bright blue but now dark with lust. “I keep thinking about all the _other_ things we could be doing right now.”

Jack is quiet for a moment, a hungry look in his eyes as they stare at each other, and Kent is sure that Jack is going to kiss him again, just like he had a week ago during training, when they’d both been worn out after a long sparring session and Kent had been about to leave, when Jack grabbed his arm and pulled him close and kissed him hard and Kent saw _stars_ \-- but Jack doesn’t kiss Kent again. Jack breaks his gaze and screws his eyes shut, brows furrowed.

“We can’t do that again. It’s reckless and it’s breaking about a thousand rules,” Jack says in a serious voice that invites no argument. He opens his eyes again, all sign of lust gone, leaving only a simmering anger in its wake. “Control yourself, Kenny. It’s the Jedi way.” 

Kent grits his teeth and steps back, leaving a respectable amount of space between them. He reaches out with his mind, testing their bond in the force, and finds it unchanged-- they’re close, arguably _too_ close if Master Sylar has anything to say about it, but Kent can never bring himself to pull away. He tests it, just for a second, trying to untangle his force signature from Jack’s, but Jack holds tight, not letting him budge. Kent bites off a frustrated noise.

Jack won’t meet his eyes.

“You’re a hypocrite, Zimms.”

Jack offers a wry smile and a humorless laugh and says, “Get into second form. Let’s try a new drill.”

 

* * *

 

“Master Windu had no _right_ ,” Jack seethes, pacing up and down through the carefully manicured gardens, trampling grass with every stomp of his feet. Kent sits a few feet away, resting with his feet in a fountain, as he watches Jack with tired eyes. “I haven’t been confined to the temple since we were kids!”

“It’s only temporary,” Kent tries to assuage, but Jack just turns and glares at him.

“He’s punishing me just for the sake of it,” Jack says in a low, angry voice. “I did what had to be done, I _protected_ people, why is he trying to find fault with that?” 

It’s moments like this that Kent doesn’t know how to deal with Jack. Normally, he’s calm and in control, unlike Kent, who’s prone to making rash decisions, and it’s unsettling to see Jack at odds with any of the Jedi masters, let alone the council as a whole. Jack’s always been stringent about following the code, to the point of lecturing Kent whenever he got lax; the only time Jack ever erred was that one impulsive kiss, so many years ago now.

But, of course, there’s the matter at hand. Jack broke the code in a big way.

“You didn’t have to kill them,” Kent says quietly, staring down into the clear waters of the fountain instead of facing Jack’s surely thunderous expression. “I was there, I know exactly how it went down, Jack, and they didn’t have to die.” 

“The Sith lord would have killed the senators!” Jack bursts out angrily. Kent heaves a heavy sigh and looks up at him, but Jack isn’t looking at him at all. His hands are clenched into tight fists and his gaze is fixed somewhere behind Kent, livid and unfocused. His voice is thick when he says, “He would have killed you. I couldn’t let that happen.”

The light hits Jack’s face at an odd angle, drawing sharp shadows across his cheekbones. He looks untouchable, carved from marble. It’s odd, really, how the light almost makes his blue eyes look yellow.

Kent feels his blood run cold.

He scrambles to stand up, splashing water everywhere, and he doesn’t let himself think it through before he steps in close to Jack, wrapping his arms around him and holding tight, like he hasn’t since they were padawans. He reaches out with the force too, feeling the dark, twisted edges of Jack’s anger, and he sends him a pulse of comfort that does little to help.

“You saved me,” Kent whispers, voice muffled against Jack’s chest. After a moment, Jack wraps his arms around Kent, hands fisting in the back of his tunic, and they hold each other too tight for a long while.

“I thought you were going to die,” Jack murmurs, voice low in Kent’s ear. “For one terrifying second, I thought about life without you in it, and I couldn’t bear it.”

Kent pulls back slowly, cupping Jack’s face with gentle hands, relieved beyond words to see that Jack’s eyes are back to their normal blue. Kent will worry about their temporary change and all its ramifications later.

“Kiss me,” Kent says softly.

Surrounded by the sound of trickling water, the subtle glow of night-blooming flowers, and the smell of freshly cut grass, Jack kisses Kent, and for a few peaceful minutes, the darkness is kept at bay.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm lowkey back to writing Pimms, so feel free to comment prompt ideas here or send them to my tumblr @ercbittle!


End file.
